


After The Bomb Drops

by ScreamedAloud



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Betrayal, Cancer, Children of Affairs, Conspiracy, F/M, M/M, Mpreg, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamedAloud/pseuds/ScreamedAloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles McCall are childhood sweethearts and married. When Scott dies tragically in a crash, it is then when his secrets come to light...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second attempt at a fanfiction so comment please. I used the name of Linden for Stiles' father because the actor who plays him, his first name is Linden.
> 
> ALSO! The tags are things that are going to happen, just give me a little bit of time, I promise all will be written.

                “H-He…um… he-e loved the X-Men, and Dr. Pepper, and g-green M&Ms.” Stiles McCall gulped hard as he stared hard at the mass of people gathered in the Beacon Hills Cemetery for the funeral of his husband. He took another hard breath before continuing on in a rush of cried out words. “I…love-loved…Scott McCall, for almost twenty years, I’ve loved him, starting from the day we met in Mrs. St. John’s kindergarten class. I can’t believe he’s gone from us so soon and that he won’t live to see his thirtieth bir-bir-birth-”

                “-I think it’s about time for the benediction Father Jacobs,” Stiles’ father Linden said as he smoothly ran up to the podium and grabbed Stiles’ hand in order to lead him to his seat when heart-wrenching sobs started to overtake him.

                Stiles tried hard to control himself as he sat back down in the pew, to not be that person at a funeral, the weeping overdramatic mess who threw themselves on the coffin in a fit of hysteria. It was just immensely difficult for Stiles to comprehend what happened, it all still so new to him, Scott being dead. Just last week his husband was alive and well, talking to him animatedly about his latest trip to New York or London, his work as a creative officer for Halestorm Comics taking him all over the world. And now due to one freak engine fire on a Boeing 764, he was gone.

                Stiles sat through the rest of the service in a tear soaked daze, lost in his own little world as the priest said something priest-like and closed his bible in conclusion on the service. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Scott’s mahogany coffin as it waited to be lowered into his plot, couldn’t allow himself to realize that when he stood up and walked away off of the grounds he was saying goodbye to the one person he’d loved with all of his heart for as long as he could remember.

                “Stiles…it’s time to go.” Linden said softly, his pale blue eyes filled with compassion and tears.

                “I-I just need-”

                “-I know Stiles,” his father interrupted with the same soft and sweet empathy that would’ve been cloying and overpowering from anyone else. “When your mother died I felt like I was being buried alive, by my grief and by all of the support and love that everyone kept sending my way.-”

                “-Then you know I don’t want to talk to you,” Stiles spat out, sorrow making his voice rough and his words rapid. “Dad, I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are or how much you know what I’m feeling and going through. I don’t want to talk about the weather or Mom or anything else you’re going to try to use as an in to talk about Scott, like you’ve done for the past week. I want to sit here on my ass in this cemetery with the fucking cold as balls November air rushing through these thin dress pants and I want to say goodbye to my husband Dad, alone. Please could you just…go, I’ll call a taxi or ride the bus or something.”

                Linden sighed and gave Stiles a one armed hug before rising and going to accept condolences with Scott’s mother. Stiles heaved another sob and turned with fresh tears towards Scott’s coffin, his hands and feet shaking with the effort of not giving into his urges and hurling himself onto the grave with Scott’s coffin. He wanted to, desperately he wanted to, but then his clothes would be ruined and he’d spend the next few months locked away in some hospital, which was what his mother-in-law threatened him with just to get him to even come to the funeral.

                “Stiles, we need to go,” for once Lydia’s voice didn’t have its usual amount of snide bitchery. She sat down beside her friend with a touch of hesitance, and smoothed her black woolen dress before continuing. “The wake starts in ten minutes and you need to be there, to at least get some of Mrs. Caldwell’s brownies before Jackson or Boyd chokes them all down.”

                “I’ll be there Lydia, I just a little more time to say g-goodbye to Scott.” Stiles said softly as fresh tears stared to fall.

                “Oh Stiles,” Lydia grabbed Stiles and pressed him practically into her cleavage. “I know it’s hard to understand now but you’ll get through this, I know you will. You’re strong and brave and I know you’re going to survive this, at least until I finish the lawsuit.”

                “Do you really have to be a lawyer now Lydia?” Stiles said slowly, his voice slightly muffled by Lydia’s breasts. “You can’t let me mourn in peace?”

                “No,” Lydia was unapologetic. She tucked him in closer into her cashmere clad bosom before saying. “I won’t stop being the lovable bitch you know and love until you get past this Stiles, and I won’t stop until you sign my suit and I go after those bastards. Stiles they took something precious from you and they should pay for it, with lots and lots of zeros.”

                “Lydia I don’t want money,” Stiles gently pushed himself off of Lydia. “I just want to forget today, I just want Scott back.”

                “I know,” Lydia said as she brushed a hand over Stiles’ buzzed brown hair. “But he’s in heaven now with your mom and Stiles, you need to come to Mrs. McCall’s house and honor his homecoming.”

 

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                 “Are you sure you’re alright Stiles?” Scott’s mother Melissa asked him for the seventh time in less than an hour.

                “No Mama I’m fine,” Stiles answered through a mouthful of chocolate syrup drenched brownie. He glanced up from the platter of brownies he’d commandeered from the main dining room table before he sighed softly and pulled out the chair beside him from under the table.

                “I know I’m being a nag Stiles,” Melissa said as she sat down beside him on the small kitchen table. She picked up the second serving fork sticking out of the platter. “It’s just you haven’t spoken to anyone since you arrived and two former lacrosse players are wondering what happened to a platter of brownies.”

                “I’m talking to you, Dad, and Lydia, that’s more than enough people right now.” Stiles defended himself as he took another healthy bite of brownie. “And these brownies are mine; I’m calling widower’s rights.”

                “Widower’s rights aren’t a thing.” Melissa said as she took her own healthy bite of brownie. “Damn that senile old biddy makes some good brownies.”

                “You’d think she added pot to them instead of sea salt.” Stiles agreed before he took a sip from the carton of milk beside him. The two ate contentedly in silence, each filled with chocolate and memories of Scott. Stiles was passing the carton of milk to Melissa when the kitchen door opened and Erica poked her head in.

                “There you two are, people were beginning to think that the two of you had driven off somewhere, Thelma and Louise style.”

                “Erica where would we go, when the entire town is here?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow. “And even if Mama and I wanted to go on a scenic mountain trip that devolves into a horrible murder slash suicide, everyone and I mean everyone, going from the cops going to the clerk who’d take our money when we buy gas before we’d start our spree is standing in-”

                “-Look I get it, but still Stiles, your dad has finished his speech and so has Scott’s boss , Lydia, Boyd, and Jackson.” Erica interrupted. “I’ve just finished my delightful anecdote about the time in high school when I followed Scott around because I still didn’t know that he was gayer than Christmas, it’s finally time for the main event to come to the stage and say a few words.”

                “I’ll give you four bites of brownie if you turn around and pretend you’d never seen us.” Stiles offered.

                “I honestly would except I’m allergic to chocolate and getting fat Stiles,” Erica smiled as she fully entered the kitchen, clad in a black wrap dress that hugged her every curve. “And the natives are one more stealth fart from Jackson until they revolt and burn the house down, so I’d suggest the two of you stop force-feeding yourselves diabetes and get up in here.”

                “It really is refreshing that I’m friends with a stripper is constantly on the high moral ground.” Stiles commented as he swallowed down a hunk of brownie.

                “I know, I should be out turning tricks or snorting blow off one of my fellow stripper’s ass for a rapper or sad migrant worker.” Erica said breezily as she walked to the table with Stiles and Melissa and sat down. “But really you two, tick tock.”

                “We’re almost done Erica,” Melissa said as she took another bite of brownie. “We’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

                “I appreciate that the sooner the two of you speak is the sooner I can leave, no offense. Cinnamon’s court date was moved to today and Benny needs me to ride the bull tonight.” Erica said she took a sip of milk out of the carton.

                “Don’t,” Stiles cautioned Melissa when he saw a dumbfounded expression start to bloom on her face. “We’ve all spent many hours pondering why someone as talented and smart as Erica chooses to work at a place called the Saucy Lambs, think too hard about it and you’ll get a headache.”

                Melissa only shook her head and said, “I was just going to say if you don’t want chocolate I have some Special K bars in a drawer somewhere.”

                “Sure you were Mrs. McCall,” Erica smiled as she took Stiles’ fork for a bite of brownie herself. “It’s still nice and classy of you to pretend otherwise.”

                “I meant what I said Erica, there really are some Special K bars somewhere in here.” Melissa blandly protested.

                “Well thank you Mrs. McCall,” Erica smiled kindly, a small piece of brownie marring her blinding white teeth. “But if this isn’t a cheat day then I don’t know what is.”

                Stiles opened his mouth as was about to say something when the kitchen door swung open again and Lydia stalked in.

                “There you guys are.” Lydia frowned. “It’s time for some speeches so some people can get to the Law and Order marathon playing on TNT.”

 

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                “I r-remember,” Melissa snorted, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “When I came home that afternoon and saw the floor was covered with bottles and bottles of my green dish detergent and that Scott and Stiles were in their Power Rangers whitey tighties sliding across the floor sword fighting with my feather d-dusters, I almost died laugh-”

                “-Really Mama, that’s the story you want to eulogize Scott with?” Stiles moaned from between his fingers. While Stiles had kept his own little monologue brief and had mostly thanked the enormous crowd for coming, Melissa had done a twenty set on Stiles and Scott’s greatest moments.

                “It is because even after all these years it still makes me laugh,” Melissa grinned at Stiles fondly. “I love that memory of the two of you, the thought of it will hit me at different moments and all I can do is laugh.”

                “Well, the story of Scott’s college graduation is equally hilarious and it doesn’t have images of my naked dancing in people’s heads.” Stiles protested as he tried to stop his own smile.

                “I don’t think the story of Scott throwing up on the Dean is as heartwarming and touching a story as naked slip and slide Stiles,” Lydia snorted. “No offense.”

                “Would anyone like anymore coffee?” Stiles glanced at the empty pot he’d brought with him when he’d left the kitchen with Melissa and Erica. He grabbed it and stood up quickly in order to cross the den to get back to the kitchen.

                “Don’t think your leaving will stop us talking from about you and your childhood nakedness!” Erica called from behind him.

                Stiles left the den and walked through the crowded dining room, all the while muttering under his breath about decency at wakes. Once he was in the kitchen he opened the cabinet and pulled out a can of Folgers. He chuckled to himself as he grabbed a spoon and shoved a few spoonfuls of coffee into the machine, the thoughts of the time Scott convinced him it would be like ice skating if they soaped the floor flashing in his mind. Stiles was wading in Melissa’s freezer looking for some of her French vanilla ice cream to go along with the coffee when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He yelped and turned around, dropping the Bluebell carton on the ground.

                “Oh! I’m so sorry!” a thin brunette said apologetically as she held her hands up cautiously. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

                “Um, it’s alright.” Stiles said slowly as he stooped to pick up the dropped carton. “Can I help you with something? Do you need directions to the bathroom or something?”

                “N-No, that’s alright.” It was the girl’s turn to look ill-at-ease. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a while now, I just didn’t see an opportunity or have the right amount of courage to get you alone to talk.”

                “Why would you want to talk to me?” Stiles asked.

                “I knew your h-husband.” the brunette said slowly, stuttering on the word husband.

                “Well that’s nice of you say, a lot of people knew Scott, thank you for finding the time to honor him.” Stiles said a little uncomfortably as he hugged the ice cream to his body. He was getting a slight serial killer vibe from the girl, who was shifting from foot to foot and wearing worn dark clothing, the kind who’d seen a needle and thread in its lifetime.

                “Yeah that’s nice but…my name is Allison Argent and for the past five years I’d been having an affair with your husband.” The girl named Allison Argent rushed out.

               

                  

                


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part deux, please disregard my sad attempt at writing smut, that's not really my forte. I'm more of a dramatic type of gal.

                 “I’m s-sorry what?!” Stiles gasped.

                “I had an affair with your husband.” Allison said as she stopped fidgeting. Repeating the sentence had made her less nervous and scared, the words giving her something miniscule to hold onto as she stood up straight and looked Stiles dead in his eyes.

                “W-W-”                               

                “I’m a colorist for Halestorm Comics,” Allison explained herself as she ran thin pale hands through her long and lank brown hair. “And when I went to the New York offices to submit my work for the week, I met Scott in the elevator. I swear to you he didn’t tell me he was married Stiles-um-Mr. McCall.”

                “Why?” Stiles said as he stared at Allison in abject horror, finally able to speak again.

                “Um…he was cute and I was single at the-oh, you meant why’d he told me he wasn’t married?” Allison shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, maybe it was because he was across the country away from you and that gave him the free-”

                “-No, I meant…why you would tell me this?” Stiles cut in as the first positive emotion started to rise inside of him, which was sweet glorious rage.

                “Y-You’re Scott’s husband,” Allison said with more than a touch of confusion. “And I thought you deserved to know what-”

                “No you didn’t, don’t try to stand there and try to tell me that lie.” Stiles snapped as his voice rose with each word. “You didn’t think I deserved to know when you were having sex with him; otherwise you’d have told me long before Scott’s fucking funeral service!”

                “M-Mr. McCall-”

                “-And why are you here Allison Argent now, the girl who was putting my husband’s penis into her no doubt diseased vagina for five years?” Stiles barreled on, taking righteous pleasure at this mousy little girl collapsing into herself with every word. “It’s like you think I’ve never seen a Lifetime movie or an episode of All My Children-I’m not giving you any money skank so you need to leave the way you came.”

                “What!?” Allison gasped.

                “I may have been too stupid to notice that my husband was cheating on me, but I’ve seen enough of these to know why you’re here Allison Argent,” Stiles said as he stared daggers at Allison. “I want you to know that I don’t have any money to give, and even if I did I sure as hell wouldn’t even give you a goddamn cent.”

                “I don’t want any of your money.” Allison said with quiet dignity.

                “Sure you don’t, why else are you here?” Stiles smirked. “If you were just here to pay respects to Scott you’d sit in the back of the church like a good whore and leave before anyone noticed you, no you want something.”

                Allison closed her eyes and used a sigh to collect herself.  “It’s not that I don’t want something…that would be…untruthful. But it’s not money, if there’s one thing I don’t need its money.”

                “Oh I’m sorry, I must’ve confused the latest …oh screw it, I’m too mad to keep up being bitchy.” Stiles snapped. “If it’s not to be a money grubbing leech then why are you here, and don’t say it’s to clear your conscience. I didn’t need to know this; I could’ve continued my life without knowing that my husband was cheating on me with…you.”

                “I…honestly I’d thought I’d have a little more time to ease my way into this,” Allison laughed weakly. “Bullshit my way into talking to you for a little while, before you found out about me and why I’m here. But I’m here because of Posey.”

                “Like pocketful of posy?” Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you-”

                “Posey is my daughter.” Allison said bluntly. “And she needs her father’s bone marrow to live.”

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                “Another one of these please.” Stiles raised his empty glass to the bartender, who nodded and reached behind himself to pull down the bottle of Belvedere from the shelf. Normally Stiles was an extremely light social drinker, almost to the point where he could be a teetotaler and swear off booze completely if he didn’t like to calm his nerves with a mixed drink every now and then. “And hold the kiwi slices but leave everything else this time.”

                Once he was done Stiles sighed and went back to playing with the assortment of empty drinking glasses he’d collected ever since he arrived at Haven a little more than two hours ago. Ever since that…woman…told Stiles that news about his husband all he could do since then was run out of the wake blindly and drive his car until the gas light started to blink. Luckily there was a bar across the street from the gas station and Stiles figured now was just as good a time as any to take up binge drinking.

                Even though Stiles was currently under the influence of one or four expensive fancy drinks he normally wouldn’t have ordered from an exclusive trendy bar he’d ordinarily would’ve drove past, he still couldn’t get Allison Argent’s words out of his head, no matter how hard he tried or what drink he ordered at random. Scott was dead and he had a daughter, a daughter Stiles only learned about a few hours ago. He still didn’t know which part of that sentence was more hurtful.

                Stiles had always liked kids, he loved them really, and was devastated when he found out he couldn’t have them. At first it didn’t matter, and in fact it used to be a sort of weird blessing for Stiles and his husband. Stiles was the rare Materman with a hostile womb, he could get pregnant but inevitably would suffer a miscarriage, usually during the last part of the first trimester. In high school and in college when the two were exploring their love in a more explicit manner, it used to didn’t matter if Stiles would forget a pill or Scott didn’t have a condom, Stiles would still be cramping a little more than a month later. Now Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if what Scott told him was a lie, if his barrenness was the reason Scott cheated on him and had a child with some seemingly random girl.

                Stiles shook his head angrily, refusing to allow Scott to harsh his buzz and invade his thoughts from beyond the grave, which was so ironic he had to hide his giggles when the bartender came with his new Sour Coconut Rinse and collected the various empty glasses. Stiles was sipping his fresh drink quietly and thinking ruefully how just a few hours ago he was inconsolable about his husband’s death when he felt the room grow silent. Glancing up, he quickly realized why.

                Now Stiles had seen quite a few handsome men in his life, and had even made friends with a couple of them, they all paled horribly in comparison when this particular gentleman stormed into the bar like he owned the place. He walked to the bar like he was about to kill or have rough sex with someone, the dark grey tee shirt he was wearing was molded to his extremely muscular frame. When Sexy sat down on a chair one seat from Stiles, Stiles hurried to turn back to his drink before Sexy could realize he was semi-drunkenly stalking him.

                Stiles knew he wasn’t hideous, if the few complements he’d received from sweet old ladies and their put-on-the-spot grandsons were any indication. He knew he had a slightly goofy nerd look to him and that many guys and some girls would go for and appreciates that. He also knew with complete certainty that the mega hot guys don’t date the former band geeks, not if they wanted to show their faces in first period again. He wasn’t about to get his feelings hurt by the model because he thought he could hit on him, Stiles already had enough unpleasant revelations today, thank you very much.

                So imagine his surprise when Stiles was sipping on his drink and he felt a heavy hand tap him on the shoulder.

                “Excuse me?” The hot guy asked Stiles, so close to him Stiles could see every fleck of brown in his lime green eyes.

                “Y-Yes?” Stiles answered, trying with all of his might to seem sophisticated and in control and not a few drinks past tipsy.

                “Do you know what’s good here?” Hot guy gestured to shelves of booze that lined the back of the bar. “I’d say I’ll have what you’re having, but that looks a little too thick for me and I barely drink enough to know whether or not if that’s tasty or not.”

                “Um…it’s not,” Stiles glanced down at his half-full cup of thick white booze. “Tasty that is, I really only wouldn’t suggest you drink this.”

                “Then why are you drinking it, if it’s so nasty?” The guy said with a smile. “I’m Derek by the way.”

                “Stiles.” Stiles smiled back. “And I’m drinking this because I’m…celebrating…something tonight Derek and I wanted to get completely hammered, on as many random drinks as my wallet, bladder, and liver allows. It’s a decision that I’m now regretting just a little because I don’t love alcohol enough to drink something that take’s like coconut vomit.”

                “What are you celebrating, if you don’t mind me asking?” Derek said as he nodded to get the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have a ginger ale please.”

                “Oh that’s quite a drink you have there,” Stiles lightly teased. “It’s the go-to choice for alcoholics at weddings or funerals.”

                “Ha ha,” Derek smiled back. “I’d be offended if that wasn’t the reason I ordered it.”

                “Oh!” Stiles jerked. “I’m sorry, I-”

                “-HAH! No!” Derek barked as he took a healthy gulp of ginger ale on the bartender arrived with his drink. “I make little sarcastic jokes, sorry about that.”

                “Don’t worry about it, so do I” Stiles replied easily. “So, what made you come to a bar if you don’t drink?”

                “I got tired of staying in my room watching Katherine Heigl find true love-this bar is connected to the Beacon Hills Marriott.” Derek explained when he seen the confused look on Stiles.

                 “Really? I walked in from the sidewalk.” Stiles said. “I truly thought this bar was part of an office building or something.”

                “Well whatever, all what matters is that you’re here with me.” Derek said as he grinned wolfishly, his smile a perfect contrast to his dark stubble and light olive skin.

                “Am I?” Stiles said as he tried hard not to vomit, cry, or laugh hysterically at this outlandish situation. He didn’t do this, he wasn’t this person, a guy who got drunk in bars and flirted with GQ models. He’d literally just finished burying his husband less than eight hours ago, and so what if he’d just found out that the man he married on his eighteenth birthday was a cheater with a five year old bastard daughter, Scott was still his husband. He loved him, he was in love with him, and that didn’t go away because a girl told some lie about him.

                “I’d like to think you are,” Derek said as he crossed to the chair that was between them. “You’re cute and I like a guy who describes a twenty-seven dollar mixed drink as coconut vomit.”

                “You do?” Stiles tried not to squeak, unable to believe that this was happening to him and that Derek was serious. “You like…me and my awesome wordplay?”

                “I do,” Derek leaned in closer, his breath a delightful combination of ginger ale and spearmint gum. “I like you and your wordplay a lot, so much so I’m debating whether or not to ask you to leave this place with me.”

                “I so would,” Stiles shivered. “You’re like…eleven…steps above my hotness station, but I think my coconut vomit is making me not notice that too much.”

                “I don’t know if I should be flattered that you think I’m so much better looking than you or worried that you don’t think you’re as good looking as me so I’m gonna go with flattered.” Derek said as he arched a sable eyebrow.

                “Stick with flattered.” Stiles said.

 

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                Derek kissed like he was starving for it, he practically ate Stiles alive as he furiously stuck his tongue down Stiles’ throat while he had him down on his king-sized hotel bed, not that Stiles was complaining. He gave as good as he got, dueling Derek’s talented tongue with his own as he squirmed deliciously under Derek’s muscled weight, the heat of Derek’s body combined with the four and a half drinks he had was making Stiles giddy and a little delirious.

                “Oh god you’re so hot!” Stiles moaned as Derek tongued along his jaw, his stubble rasping along his skin and making Stiles shiver.

                “Mmm.” Derek said as he sucked on Stiles’ neck while his hands make quick work of the buttons on Stiles’ black dress shirt. Once it was open Derek explored Stiles’ chest, the calluses on his hands making Stiles’ nipples rise to taunt peaks. Stiles did a little exploring of his own; he ran his hands underneath Derek’s tee shirt as he kissed him, mentally squealing like a teenaged girl when his hands smoothed over Derek’s taunt six-pack and built pecs.

                When Derek groaned into his mouth and moved his hand farther south to start to undo Stiles’ belt, Stiles wondered for the fifth time in less than fifteen minutes how in the hell this was happening to him, and if this was God’s way of instant karma.

 

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                Of all of the random things that could’ve awoken him the next morning, it was the sound of snoring that had jerked Stiles to consciousness in the next morning. He froze, heart pounding with fear as he tried to piece together last night. Scott wasn’t a snorer and so who-no-Scott was dead and he slept with an actual model. Stiles took a moment for that thought to fully sink in while a muscled arm that should be on a wrestler or baseball player wrapped itself tighter around his waist, which caused him to freak out even further. He’d actually went through and done it, had boozy revenge sex with a man he picked it in a bar, he didn’t know whether to cry or high-five himself.

                He settled for terror when someone knocked rapidly on Derek’s hotel door. He froze even further while Derek jerked awake and yawned, his breath tickling the nape of Stiles’ neck and his ears.

                “If you hold on one quick moment, I’ll make housekeeping go away and I’ll give you a proper good morning.” Derek rumbled as he brushed a kiss on Stiles’ ear.

                Stiles laid there unable to move for a moment while Derek stumbled out of bed and fumbled for the robe that was draped over a desk chair, how on earth could he complete his walk of shame when his one nighter was talking to housekeeping?

                Stiles was reaching for his pants and underwear that were tossed beside the bed, grimacing at the sticky feeling he felt between his legs when he heard a voice he’d never in a million years expected to hear.

                “Derek! I messed up, I scared Stiles off-”

                “Wait? Stiles! His first name is Stiles?!” Derek shouted.

                “Allison Argent!?” Stiles screamed at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait the zero who care, life and etc...
> 
> This is part trois.

It was like a movie Stiles thought wildly as he returned the incredulous stares Allison and Derek were giving him. It was just like that Buffy movie Cruel Intentions or one of those dark comedies where you’re supposed to laugh at the main character’s misfortunes except that it’s not really funny and actually a little cruel. But really, who can laugh when the joke’s on them, when their night has turned rotten and mealy like Cinderella’s carriage at one in the morning?

                “Stiles! What are you doing here?” Allison cut through Stiles’ increasingly intricate fairytale analogy as she stepped into the hotel room and slammed the door behind her.

                “What am I-What are you doing here?” Stiles said he leapt off of the bed, uncaring of his nudity as he shoved his legs into his slacks, missing underwear and foreign bodily fluids be damned. “Why- _How_ \- are you here?”

                “Derek is my Uncle-in-Law,” Allison said as her eyebrow made friends with her hairline. “Your turn.”

                “Oh God of course he’s married,” Stiles gave a snorting mirthless chuckle as he shoved his arms into his dress shirt and started to button it at random, taking special effort to not notice that some of the black buttons were missing. “Why wouldn’t he be. Look-”

                “-Hey, last time I checked you’re married too.” Derek interjected a little defensively as he sat back down on the bed, looking like a romance novel cover with his mussed hair and marble-like physique.

                “Yeah but my lovely husband is dead.” Stiles retorted. “And before he bit the big one he knocked up Homeless Shelter Barbie over there, so forgive me if I think my house is made out of fucking stone right now.”

                “He’s dead!?” Derek said as he snapped his head back over to Allison, who at least had the good grace to look chagrined. “You didn’t say a thing about that.”

                “I thought you wouldn’t have helped me if you knew he was dead.” Allison said as she flicked a stand of hair over her shoulder and fixed her gaze on a sconce. “And judging by the look on your face I was right.”

                “It’s not that I wouldn’t help, it’s just it complicates things a little,” Derek said as he slipped his tee shirt back, looking just as fine in the morning as he did when he was tipsy, Stiles scowled.

                “Look, it’s been…something, but I’ll be going now.” Stiles said as he shoved his feet into his loafers barefoot and started to cross the room to get to the door, mentally congratulating himself for still having his keys and wallet still in his pockets as he made his way.

                “No! You can’t leave!”  Allison yelled as she shot back to block the door before Stiles could reach it. She held her hand up like she was facing a rabid dog as she said. “Not until we talk, please just, can we talk?”

                “About fucking what!?” Stiles cried as he tried real hard not to projective vomit on her, the stress and his hangover starting to overcome his senses. “What on earth would we have to talk about?”

                “I-My daughter has severe thalassemia,” Allison burst out as she stared at Stiles pleadingly. “It’s a blood disorder and it’s one of the worst cases the doctors have ever seen. They say Posey’s chances are greatly diminished if she doesn’t get a transplant soon.”

                “Allison I’m sorry to hear that, I’m truly am,” Stiles said as he switched from one leg to the other, not even giving himself a moment to realize that something wet was sliding down his legs. “But I don’t see how this really concerns me, other than the dead cheating husband part.”

                “Posey needs a bone marrow transplant and she has type B- blood Stiles,” Allison said. “I’m sure you’re aware of how rare that type is, considering the time Scott needed a transfusion when he had that skiing accident in Vail.”

                “I’m going to ignore how you know that and state the obvious, Allison, Scott is dead. He’s been dead for close to a week now, how is his cold dead bone marrow going to help?” Stiles asked.

                “Scott is-was-Roman Catholic, he we know he wasn’t buried with formaldehyde or any other embalming techniques.” Derek interjected as he abandoned the fluffy white robe he had on for his jeans. “That means we can harvest his bones for the marrow, if we do it within the next two weeks while it’s still viable.”

                Silence filled the air as Stiles processed this information. He couldn’t imagine that this was happening to him, having to be told that his philandering husband had a lovechild and she needed his bones. “Look you guys, I’m not a horrible monster,” Stiles said heavily as he wiped a clammy hand across his forehead. “I’ll sign whatever papers to dig Scott back up out the ground.”

                “Ohmigod Stiles, thank you!” Allison cried as tears started to fall from her eyes. She moved towards him to hug him, but stopped when Stiles raised his hands warningly.

                “You didn’t hear my conditions first.” Stiles snapped out as air flared from his nostrils. He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath before continuing. “Allison I don’t want to know, about anyone or anything. I’ll sign these papers and allow you to…use…Scott, for your daughter, but I don’t want to be there when he’s dug up, and I don’t want anyone else to know.”

                “What does that mean?” Allison asked, as confusion started to replace her tears.

                “It means, don’t call me with updates about little Posey’s health. Don’t send me pictures or letters, or even a phone-”

                “-I can do that,” Allison interrupted as she flicked tears from her cheeks. “I’ll never bother you again.”

                “Add never informing Mama to the mix and you have yourself a deal.” Stiles said with a bitter smile.

                “What-”

                “-Mama, or Melissa McCall as she’ll be known to you, has just finished burying her son. I don’t want to upset her Allison or cause her anymore pain than what she’s already been through.”

                “So informing Melissa McCall that she isn’t alone, that she has a living relative out there, that would be hurtful for her and not the husband he cheated on?” Derek raised an eyebrow as he slipped his tee-shirt back over his head.

                “Yes it would hurt her.” Stiles shot back. “To know her son had knocked up a random stranger, to know that her son’s body has to be dug back up out the ground and cut into like a piece of chicken to help said illegitimate child, that would be damn painful. Especially since we’re still getting pieces of Scott and his luggage from Northwest Airlines.”

                “So she won’t know.” Allison said quietly. “Stiles I only came here to help Posey, to get Scott’s marrow to help her, I didn’t come here to continue this bad Maury episode by demanding to meet Melissa McCall. If you don’t want for us to meet her, I understand and I won’t press, I just want my daughter to live to go to middle school.”

                “Then we have an agreement.” Stiles said.

 

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                For all of the horror stories Stiles had heard about bed rest, lying down and doing nothing was surprisingly smooth and peaceful for him. He’d spent his days deep in his covers getting caught up on past episodes of Drag Race and The Closer while eating his weight in salted grapes, life was great for him. Finally he could relax, sleep and not think about anything in particular, anything like Allison and Posey Argent.

                Ever since…that night…happened he tried hard to keep them out of his mind, a feat that was actually easy to do once he realized he was pregnant with twins and was completely unprepared. That was the news Stiles was focused on, after a literal lifetime of miscarriages and not worrying about being late ever, he was currently tied down to his bed with two weights that to his amazement were still alive and kicking. He didn’t know whether or not to be happy or devastated, that after a lifetime of being hostile his womb was finally conquered by a married stranger.

                That little tidbit of information always seemed to find itself in the forefront of Stiles’ mind during the most inopportune moments, like when he was valiantly rubbing cocoa butter on his stretch marked stomach or when Mama McCall bought him Scott’s old baby clothes and cried over the memories they represented. He still haven’t told her and wondered for the millionth time if he made the right decision, to not tell her that she had a true grandchild out there.

                But he made his decision and he knew it was one he could live with. After the funeral it really looked like Stiles was going to be forced to send Mama to Briarcliff Mental Institution and let her grieve in the comforting arms of trained medical professionals. She didn’t stop crying or looking at old photo albums until Stiles told her he was pregnant. Now, the only bright spots in Mama’s life was the knowledge that she was going to have two grandchildren to take care of, two little angels that would make losing her only child and last living relative more bearable.

                As Stiles reached beside him for his bag of red seedless and container of Morton’s, he told himself that he made a calm rational decision about Allison and Posey, and that if he repeated it enough, he could actually believe it.

 

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                “Aww Stiles look,” Melissa cooed as she held Baby A in her arms. “They look so much like Scott, it’s a miracle.”

                “It surely is a miracle,” Stiles agreed faintly as he held Baby B in his arms, the newborn contentedly  sucking on a bottle as he stared up at Stiles with hazel eyes that were more green than brown. If Stiles didn’t already know he was a cheating skank of a husband like his own husband, he would’ve bet anything that the child he was holding in his arms was his husband’s child and not a random married man’s. But Stiles didn’t want to accentuate the negative so he contented himself with feeding his son and deciding whether or not he was going to continue the charade and name either one of his sons after his ex-husband.

                “So Stiles, have you decided on names?” Lydia looked up from her iPhone from the safety of her chair by the window, her Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress and Louboutins protected from any stray fecal, spittle, and dairy matters.

                “Um yeah,” Stiles said with a glance down at Baby B. “I’m thinking about Dylan and Bryan, to continue with the faux Irish theme.”

                “Oh thank god,” Lydia breathed. “For a moment there I was sure you were going to name those poor bastards Orangejello and Lemonjello.”

                “What’s so bad about those names?” Stiles said with a raised eyebrow. “They rhyme and I enjoy them both, with grapes and when I want to ruin my sheets by using it on my hair instead of Manic Panic.”

                “Shut up, that was only one time and Jenna Hamilton was doing it,” Lydia laughed. “I wanted to be popular and I was, using Kool-Aid to dye my hair was just the white trash rite of passage to get them to like me.”

                “And they did, you were the queen of the plastics, especially after you gave Jenna’s boyfriend those old condoms.” Stiles said as he burped the baby he decided was named Dylan Tyler.

                “What?” Melissa looked up from burping Bryan Daniel to stare at Lydia.

                “Not my fault Jenna was a whore or that Matty used those Mexican condoms.” Lydia shrugged, unrepentant. “She has a lovely little ten year old now plus a deadbeat and I was prom and homecoming queen, it was a win-win for everyone involved.”

                "You are such a bitch, thank God I knew you when you had braces and brown hair.” Stiles said as he switched Melissa for the other twin.

                “And that’s why every picture after age sixteen are destroyed or locked up in a Grand Cayman bank account.” Lydia said.

                “Re-” Whatever Melissa was about to say was aborted when the door to Stiles’ hospital room burst open and in ran a little girl. She had a mass of brunette ringlets and she was dressed like Snow White with her Disney dress.

                “Mama he has the same last name as Daddy, maybe he knows Daddy and can tell-”

                “-Posey, what did I tell you about r-ohmigod-Stiles!” Allison gasped after she ran behind her daughter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is part quatre...

“Stiles, how do you know this woman and her beautiful daughter?” Melissa asked as she rocked Bryan softly in her arms, her face wreathed in curiosity as she flicked her gaze from Posey and Allison.

                “Um...” For once Stiles was speechless, he felt like his brain was dipped in molasses as he stared at Posey in horrified disbelief, who was looking back at him with eyes that were the exact shade and shape as Scott’s. His minds raced with thoughts about the two of them, thoughts like why were they here in Beacon Hills or _why were they in Beacon Hills?_

                “I am, I mean, I was a co-worker with his husband,” Allison said without blinking an eyelash. “My Aunt is starting her job as an OB/GYN her and we were visiting her at her new job, I’m sorry we interrupted this…occasion, Posey just thought McCall meant Michaels.”

                “Oh it’s alright; we were just oohing and aahing over the babies.” Melissa said as she laid Bryan back down in the crib that was beside Stiles’ bed. “Were you close with Scott, I think I’ve seen you at the funeral.”

                “I was there,” Allison allowed as she tried in vain to grab her daughter’s hand, who darted out of her grip to run to the crib, her chocolate eyes gazing raptly at the baby in the bassinette. “I just wanted to pay my respects; Scott was a really good employee of my far-families.”

                “And you are?” Lydia asked with a sharp jade gaze.

                “Allison Argent, my grandfather help create Halestorm Comics.” Allison said a tad stiltedly. “I sure we’re intruding and again I’m so sorry, I’ll just get out of your hair. Posey come here, we still have to go to the bathroom.” Allison quickly crossed the room and grabbed the hand of her cooing daughter, her tiny blue and yellow clad body trailing behind her as they crossed and exited the room.

                “I think Bryan need to be changed.” Melissa said after a pause that Stiles used to calm his still racing heart.

                 “Yeah,” Stiles said as he tried not a tremor show in his voice and not collapse in shock.

 

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                If there was ever an upside to having your husband die suddenly in such a dramatic and calamitous fashion that was nationwide news, it was that your insurance companies and billion dollar corporations suddenly became extremely generous to the recently bereaved. Sure it was blood money, but it was fourteen million dollars’ worth of blood money and Stiles thought he could deal. After he got passed the shakes that came with suddenly being a millionaire, he immediately moved from the charming little bungalow that Scott and Stiles moved into when Scott got his first adult job working for Halestorm and moved to the ritzy Beacon Beach, where he bought a tasteful five bedroom Mediterranean style home that over looked the Pacific.

                 He was now a man of leisure, raising his kids in his mansion and collecting his checks while he tried not to spend his enormous amounts of free time obsessively researching about Allison and her child. It was his favorite pastime, wondering why someone as rich and privileged as Allison Argent was always dressed so poorly, like she hadn't seen an iron or decent washing machine in years. The scant Google results Stiles habitually trolled over said basically nothing, other than she was an only child of Christopher Argent, who nearly bankrupted the company when he used company funds to romance a French model who later became Allison’s mother. Maybe she was one of those rich hipsters who dressed like crap on purpose

                But he refused to let Allison Argent invade his life any more than she already had so Stiles focused himself on his twins, two little miracles that thankfully filled up his days. Bryan and Dylan were the two littlest rays of sunshine; Stiles couldn’t stop marveling that they were his, that he could call himself a mather. He’d spent hours just staring at them, running his fingers over their tufts of black hair and putting his pinky in the palms of their hands.

                One day Stiles was shopping by himself in Bergdorf’s, browsing along the baby section when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around, and was unprepared to see Allison.

                “Allison, what-how are you?” Stiles said as he gripped tighter on his shopping cart.

                “I’m fine, and I’m not following you,” Allison gave him a weak smile. “It’s my Aunt’s birthday in a few days and I’m debating whether or not socks are an acceptable gift.”

                “Really, I would’ve thought a comic book heiress could be able to buy any pairs of sock she wanted.” Stiles said.

                “I see you’ve done your share of Goggling Stiles.” Allison said a little ruefully. “It’s understandable since I invaded your life without warning.”

                “Yeah you did,” Stiles said with more than a hint of contempt. “And please don’t take this the wrong way but if I never see you again it’ll be too soon, so could you please do me a favor and let me shop in peace?”

                “So you’re shopping for my cousins, which must be exciting for you.” Allison shrugged off Stiles’ attitude with an easy smile. “I know you’ve always wanted kids and I’m so happy for you.”

                “What do you want Allison, because I’m starting to see more of the stalking and less of the sock buying.” Stiles said with a narrowed glare.

                “Derek.” Allison returned Stiles’ glare.

                “What about him?” Stiles decided to go with the stupid route. It didn’t work.

                “I just think he deserves to know Stiles, that he has twins out there who deserve to know him.” Allison said she returned stupidity with righteousness.

                “Right, like Posey deserved to know about Scott.” Scott said as he reattached his gaze to the rows of pastel onesies that dotted the table. “How is she by the way?”

                “Do you care?”

                “Not really kettle, I was just making a point.” Stiles replied.

                “Taken pot,” Allison conceded. “I know-”

                “-No you don’t.” Stiles cut in. “Let’s not pretend our two roles are similar. Look, unlike you I’m not planning on coming out the woodwork and destroying someone’s life, I have no reason to see or speak to him or you ever again. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be going now.” With that Stiles grabbed his cart and shoved past Allison.

 

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                “Here you go boys, Bryan remember what I said about chewing.” Stiles said as he gave Dylan and Bryan their plates of chicken fingers. The two three year olds dug into their plates in completely different ways, Bryan ignored Stiles as tried to shove an entire chicken finger in his mouth while Dylan took his fries and dipped them into his ketchup before taking appropriate bites. “Bryan!”

                Bryan huffed before pulling the finger out of his mouth and taking a small bite. Stiles gave him another look before looking down at his porterhouse. Winchesters’ Steakhouse was packed on this busy Friday night, but luckily Stiles had one of the better tables in the center of the second floor dining room, away from the cigarette smoke but close to the grill and kitchens. It was Stiles’ standing dinner date with his friend Lydia, who’d be bringing along Elizabeth, his precious one year old goddaughter she had with Jackson Whittemore.

                As Stiles dug into his steak and kept a watchful eye over his twins, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities between Bryan and his pather. From the little he remembered of Derek, he was bold and he knew what he wanted, Bryan was a hardheaded little munchkin who always wanted things his way. He was the stronger personality, the one who demanded cookies and more juice, and threw humongous tantrums when he was denied. Stiles blamed the Dreyfus School, an exclusive day-school he enrolled the twins in and Ming Huang, the nanny who spoiled the boys rotten when she thought Stiles wasn’t looking. He took a little more solace in the fact that Dylan was more like him, goofy and smiley with an obsession for Kick Buttowski that rivaled on the pathological.

                “Maddy! I wan’ some juice.” Bryan said thickly, pieces of fried chicken sticking out his mouth.

                “No, not till you eat three fingers and six fries, you know the deal.” Stiles said without looking up.

                “But I wan’ juice.” Bryan’s lime green eyes filled with tears.

                “NO-”

                “-Stiles?!”

                Oh sweet Jesus, never in a million years would Stiles expect to hear that voice. He sat momentarily frozen as Derek walked up to his table, the black suit and emerald tie he was wearing making him easily the best looking man in the room.

                “Whose kids are those?” Derek said in low growly tones, his eyes ablaze with astonished fury. He stood trembling beside the table, slamming him fists down on the white tablecloth as he stared daggers at Stiles. Stiles couldn’t do anything other than look between Derek and the twins, noting their matching green eyes and black hair. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, his worst night-

                “Stiles! Answer the damn question!” Derek barked, his rise in octave starting to cut above the fray of the other diners.

                “Don’t curse, that’s not necessary.” Stiles whispered as he tried to think of something,anything, to say.

                “Then answer the question, whose twins are those?” Derek said as he leaned forward, crowding Stiles’ vision with his enraged face.

                “They’re-”

                “Stiles!” Lydia walked up to the table with Elizabeth in her arms, the both of them fashionable in matching Dolce and Gabbana sundresses. She flicked a curious glance between Stiles and Derek before asking, “Is this man bothering you?”

                “No I’m not lady, I’m asking Stiles a simple question.” Derek snapped as he gave an annoyed glare in her direction.

                “Look Derek Argent-,”

                “-What? My name is Derek Hale.” Derek said, momentarily sidetracked.

                “So you do work for Halestorm,” Stiles said.

                “No, my grandfather started the company with Gerard Argent, I’m a doctor-look screw that, answer the question Stiles. Whose goddamn kids are those!?”

                “Maybe you two need to take this conversation somewhere more private?” an embarrassed maître d’ said as she entered the conversation.

 

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                “So you ever going to tell me, huh Stiles!?” Derek rushed out once Lydia agreed to watch the twins while they ‘talked’ in the empty smoking area that was closed due to the new smoking ordinance. “Were you?”

                “Tell you about-”

                “-Don’t give me that weak bullshit Stiles, I got two eyes in my fucking head!” Derek bellowed. “I deserved to know that I got kids out there in the world, that I’m a father to twins. I can’t believe you would keep this from me.”

                “I didn’t want to ruin things,” Stiles said quietly. “I know how it feels to have your world come crashing down and I didn’t want to be the cause of that.”

                “The hell are you talking about?” Derek said, confusion starting to grow on his face.

                “You’re married Derek,” Stiles said heavily. “I didn’t w-”

                “I’m not married Stiles,” understanding started to replace Derek’s confusion. “At least I’m not anymore.”

                “Really Derek?” Stiles said incredulously. “When did that happen?”

                “When Kate decided to bang my uncle Peter on our wedding night,” Derek said as his jaw muscle started to tick. “That was the end of that little bit of wedded b-look I don’t give a damn about Kate, I want to get to know my boys.”

                This was so not the way he envisioned this particular conversation happening, Stiles stared in horror at Derek. He truly thought he’d be on the offensive in this instance, calming down Derek and reassuring him that he wasn’t interested in being the wrecking ball in his life. Instead he felt like the ground was crumbling under his feet and he didn’t have a branch or rail to hold on to.

                “In what way?” Stiles said, trying desperately not to run screaming back into the restaurant to grab a twin under each arm and sprint back to his car.

                “In every way,” Derek stressed, springing right back to tense and angry. “I’m their father and I’m going to be in their lives, and you’re not gonna stop-”

                “Derek, there you are.” A high pitched feminine voice said. As Stiles turned around, he saw a tall willowy woman with ombre tipped brunette hair stride towards them. Once she was near them she jumped to hug Derek, who stood there like a rabid mountain lion had just rubbed against his leg. “I just spent the-”

                “Kate, why are you here?” Derek ground out as he none too gently unwrapped Kate Argent’s hands from around his neck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part cinq,

“Derek, why wouldn’t I be here?” Kate said with a tinkling laugh, undeterred by Derek’s attitude. “I mean it’s your birthday today and I know you like to celebrate with a good steak-”

                “-Who even told you where I was Kate?” Derek said with a large step back.

                “Um, Laura did.” Kate said with a slightly puzzled smile. “She knew-”

                “-Kate I thought I made it clear to you, don’t ever talk to my sister.” Derek growled as he looked like he was trying hard not to toss Kate over the railing.

                Kate only smiled as she delicately traced a finger along Derek’s jacket lapel, who reared back and smacked her hand away. “Laura’s my best friend, why wouldn’t I talk to her?”

                “SHE IS NOT YOUR FRIEND!” Derek completely lost his sense of cool. “If she were, you wouldn’t have done what you’ve did to her.”

                “Laura’s gotten past my mistakes, what haven’t you?” Kate said.

                “Unlike my sister I’m not a nice and trusting person, plus I don’t forgive people who don’t deserve it.” Derek stared venomously at his ex.

                The two former lovers engaged in a tense staring contest, during which time Stiles took slow measured steps towards the doors that led inside, focused hard on making a quiet escape. He was less than three feet away when Stiles felt a heavy hand wrap itself around his wrist.

                “Where the hell are you going!?” Derek snarled, his breath tickling Stiles’ face.

                “Uh inside,” Stiles said, his eyes as wide as quarters. “I-”

                “Derek just let him go; can’t you see he needs to go back to his booth?” Kate said dismissively. “Why would you keep the Maître d’ for longer than you have to, especially when he obviously has so much to do.”

                “I do not work here.” Stiles said, trying hard not to be offended.

                “Oh! I’m sorry,” Kate didn’t as much as smile as she exposed her teeth to the warm early September air. “I just saw the black pants and white shirt assumed, are you a busboy or something?”

                “…Anyway,” Stiles said as he jerked his arm out of Derek’s grip. “I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to catching up and whatnot, I have a busy day tomorrow.”

                “We’re not lovebirds!”

                “Thank you so much.”

                “Stiles, could you please meet me at the hospital tomorrow at noon?” Derek ground out as his jaw throbbed anew. “And before you have an urge to leave town or something else stupid, Stiles I will move heaven and earth to find you and them, I just want you to know that.”

 

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                Stiles would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t consider it, that the urge to just take the twins and leave Beacon Hills in the dead of night hadn’t crossed his mind, that way he could avoid Derek Hale once and for all. He’d even spent the better part of night plotting on his escape route, after he grabbed Dylan and Bryan and left the steakhouse in a daze, barely acknowledging Lydia as he did. Once he got to the part of where he was living in a little town in Indiana with the boys, Stiles realized that he was being stupid.

                So what if Derek was the twin’s pather or that his family was worth 298 million dollars, according to the almighty Google? It wasn’t like Stiles were some junkie or a call girl, barring how the twins were conceived he was a literal open book. Plus he was a couple million dollars richer, surely he could afford a shark with the best of them?

                Emboldened by those thoughts Stiles set of for Beacon Hills Memorial, determined to stop hiding for once and allowing things to just happen. During the twenty minute drive Stiles took that time to come up with various talking points, ways for Derek to meet Dylan and Bryan without Derek intruding on his life. Those new little plans were put on hold when Derek Hale stormed into the lobby of the hospital and grabbed him arm, frog-marching him to the cafeteria. Then the plans went flying out of the window when Derek shoved him down into one of the hard plastic chairs and plopped down a thick packet of papers.

                “What is that?” Stiles waved hand to the stack of professional looking documents.

                “That is a little something my lawyers dreamed up,” Derek said as he sat opposite Stiles, his scrubs making him look even more porn-starish, the dark purple material clinging to every inch of his body and highlighting his eyes. “Just sign the last page please.”

                “Wait a minute,” Stiles leafed through the papers, the words ‘custody’ and ‘analysis’ jumping out of him. “What is this?”

                “Just a few releases and documents,” Derek stated. “Nothing too dramatic, it’s just things that establish paternity and custody.”

                “…I don’t-why would you need this?” Stiles looked up at Derek. “I-”

                “-I want to know my sons and for them to know me,” Derek said unreservedly. “These just give us the chance for that to happen.”

                “Alternating weekends, corresponding holidays-”

                “-I am the twins’ pather Stiles and I’m going to exercise my rights as such.” Derek calmly interrupted. “I don’t want there to be do any other distinction.”

                “Why are you pressing this Derek,” Stiles asked as he glancing down at the papers. “I would let you see them without-”

                “-I don’t want to see them like I’m some stranger Stiles, I’m their pather.” Derek snapped. “And since you’ve spent this entire time allowing everyone to believe your cheating dead husband is the pather of your children, I kinda think you don’t want a long public court battle to establish my rights as a parent.”

                Stiles said nothing as he sped-read the seemingly endless documents. He didn’t know what to do, if he should sign the papers or call a lawyer for help. What he did know was that he didn’t want this to be public knowledge for-

                “I promise everything will be alright for you Stiles, if you just sign the papers.” Derek said.

                “Do you have a pen?” Stiles said after a five minute inner debate fraught with indecision

 

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                “So tell us again Stiles, how did you meet Derek?” Melissa asked as she picked up the empty dinner roll plate and sat it on the tray with the other empty dishes.

.               “It was at the hospital.” Stiles said with a small laugh as he dropped the empty glasses that used to hold mashed potatoes on his own tray, the lie firmly in place for the last two months. Stiles and Derek agreed to tell people that they’d met at the hospital, in the elevator when Stiles was taking the twins for their checkup. It was love at first sight, or at least that was what they told people. It was the reason Stiles was supposedly so comfortable to be left alone for Friday night dinner while Dylan and Bryan were out with Derek. “Luckily Dylan spilled his apple juice all over on him, otherwise I’d never have the chance to talk to him.”

                “I know he’s a doctor and all but Stiles, are you really comfortable with him watching the boys all by himself?” Lydia asked as she helped how she always helped, by pouring Melissa and Stiles their wine on the kitchen island, her Jimmy Choo clad feet dangling over the edge. “He’s still a virtual stranger and you don’t know how the twins will react when they’re alone with him.”

                Stiles agreed, he really did, but what came out was, “I think this will be good, for all three of them Lydia. They have to be, if I want to see if this can go any further.”

                “Well if you’re sure-“

                “-I’m not, but I’m taking a chance here.” Stiles interrupted. “Plus, I bribed Isaac to discreetly watch them at Pizza Pete’s.”

                “That’s not suspicious at all Stiles,” Lydia snorted into her glass of cabernet. “A grown man with no kids sitting alone at a restaurant that has animatronic Sesame Street rip-offs and a teenager in a monkey costume who comes out every thirty minutes to sing happy birthday off-key. Yeah, he won’t be the notice of anyone.”

                “Why did Erica have to go to Comic-Con?” Stiles whined. “You’d think if you see a Kristen Stewart say ‘no comment’ for two hours that’ll be enough.”

                “I know, shame on her for wanting to stop being a stripper.” Lydia laughed. “You know she’s premiering her new graphic novel she’s got with Boyd.”

                “Still it’s inconsiderate.” Stiles sniffed.

 

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                Out of all the scenarios Stiles envisioned during his long nights after he signed Derek’s custody papers, he’d never thought this would happen, or so soon. He watched with a sinking heart as his twins burst through the door from their day at the Beacon Hills Aquarium and Water Park, with Derek close on their heels. During their time away Stiles had spent his time in his living room, watching the clock as he counted down the minutes until the boys returned.

                “Maddy! We got sharks!” Bryan squeaked as he brandished a plush blue dolphin proudly.

                “Paddy got them for us!” Dylan added as pieces of cotton candy wafted from his chin, his jellybean green eyes sparking with sugary excitement.

                “I see them guys, they look great!” Stiles smiled at them with as much good cheer as he could muster, relief at having them back making him lightheaded. “I see you’ve had a fantastic time with...paddy. Why don’t you guys go show what you won to Ming, you know how much she likes the beach.” The twins ran upstairs yelling for their nanny, practically trampling over each other as they left their parents alone.

                “So it’s Paddy now?” Stiles said once the boys were safely out of hearing distance.

                “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Derek said, rolling his shoulder’s back unapologetically. “All day people were coming up to us, telling me what beautiful twins I have and how much they look like miniature versions of me, like little teacup Dereks. You would’ve thought I cloned myself actually, given how much Dylan and Bryan look like me, like they just fell out of my old baby pictures. I-”

                “-I get the point.” Stiles whispered.

                “Good, I was running out of things to say.” Derek smiled before getting serious again. “Look, Stiles I’m not trying to mess up your life or anything, but I’m not letting my kids live a lie. Not when everyone, and I do mean _everyone_ keeps pointing out the obvious, that I am their pather and that I have beautiful twins.”

                “I know,” Stiles sighed tiredly. “It’s just so hard, keeping this up. I keep thinking one day I’m going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and it’s all going to come crashing down.”

                “Why not let it?” Derek asked. “What’s so wrong with that Stiles, letting the truth come out? It’s not your fault that Scott was unfaithful or that he had a life you didn’t know about, a life that included a little girl.”

                “It’s my fault that I slept with someone on the same day as Scott's funeral, plus remember the fact that I had a virtual stranger’s child and not my husbands, which is what everyone who knows me believes.” Stiles said. “I hurt a lot of people, allowing this lie to take root and grow, and I don’t know how I’m going to fix it.”

 

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                “So should I get the red one or the silver?” Lydia asked as she held up both dresses.

                “The Valentino is classic, but the Herve Leger is more…” Stiles trailed off.

                “Whoreish, you can say it.” Lydia shook the silver banded gown that had a deep V neckline. “I picked it out Stiles because even though this is a day school interview and I have to make a good impression on the headmistress, I want Jackson to eat his tongue and feel even more like shit he cheated on me.”

                “Well if you’ve picked it out because of that then go see how it fits,” Stiles waved off as he picked up a stray copy of Vogue from the side table in the boutique. “I’ll be here to decide if we need to go whoreier.”

                Lydia laughed as she turned for the dressing rooms, slinging the red Valentino on a random chair as she walked away. Stiles was just reading on mixed floral prints for spring when the magazine was ripped out of his hands and tossed to the floor.

                “What the fuck!” Stiles yelped as Kate Argent sat down beside him. “What is with you people and dropping out of nowhere?!”

                “We need to talk about Derek’s bastards,” Kate said, her whisky colored eyes deadly serious.

                


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part six.

“What about my boys?” Stiles said, deciding to not entertain this bitch like Derek did. He didn’t spend the last fifteen years being Lydia Martin’s best friend without being fluid in the intricate workings and language of bitchery; he practically had a master’s degree. “And please use your words carefully.”

                “I get it, really I do,” Kate said with a head toss of expertly dyed hair. “You’re recently widowed and you want a little a companionship in your life, that’s perfectly understandable Stanley. Especially after you’ve just found out that your lovely hubby has a little girl running around town with my two-bit skank of a niece as her mother, I know that must be devastating. To know the man you love has betrayed yo-”

                “One, if you went to all the trouble of tracking me down at Bloomingdale’s then I’m damn well sure you know what my name is Karen.” Stiles cut in. “And two, start getting to the point of this visit or go get a mint, I don’t need to know you just had Mexican for lunch.”

                “Fine then, stay away from my husband.” Kate said, dispensing with the false pleasantries as she learned towards Stiles, the leather vest's top buttons were popped open and exposed her black lace bra.

                “Really?” Stiles laughed, unable to stop himself from chuckling at this high school ridiculousness. “That’s it, stay away from your ex-husband? No ‘If you don’t you’ll be sorry’?”

                “Oh, You will be sorry.” Kate smiled at Stiles. “I can and will make your entire existence hell on earth if you don’t do what I say and make your exit from Derek’s life.”

                “I don’t even want Derek like that, in a sexual manner or in a just-a-person-to-now way either.”  Stiles said. “ _He_ wants to know about the children we have together, so we don’t have some little something on the side or whatever happening. Whatever romantic entanglements that aren’t happening is between you and him.”

                “That’s all well and good Stevie; but I’ll feel better if you and the little rugrats didn’t take up so much of Derek’s time.” Kate said in that light faux sweet tone of hers.

                “Again, time that Derek’s choosing to spend with Dylan and Bryan.” Stiles said as he stood up to walk away. “And that’s all the ti-”

                “-I don’t think you’re grasping the seriousness of our conversation Sammie.” Kate said as she grabbed the arm Stiles’ leather jacket.

                “And I think you’re confusing me with someone who gives a shit.” Stiles jerked his arm away from her, leveling Kate with the patented Lydia Martin bitch glare. “I’ve already said what I was going to say to you about Derek, and if you want to sit here all day still drinking in the crazy, then that’s your issue. I’m going to go now Kelly, and you follow me to the dressing rooms then I’ll happily demonstrate how I can use the studs on this jacket to blind your ass and make it look like an accident.”

                Stiles moved past Kate, heart sinking as he saw Lydia standing a few feet away open-mouthed. His knees buckled but he walked confidently to her, inordinately glad to finally discuss this with someone.

 

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                “So lemme get this straight.” Lydia said, wincing as her shot of Jack Daniels coursed through her system. “Eight years ago Scott had an affair with a co-worker and she had his kid. When the little munchkin was five the mother came out the blue during the funeral to ask for Scott’s bone marrow, after which time you had a one-nighter with the mother’s ex uncle, who is also Dylan and Bryan’s real pather.”

                “That’s-”

                “-Not done.” Lydia cut Stiles off with one manicured finger. She signaled to the bartender for another shot before looking at her friend with still shocked eyes. “So after all this time almost four years after the twins were born, Derek finds out the truth and wants to be their pather, unfortunately bringing Psycho Roots with him to the table. Now I’m done.”

                “Well-”

                “-And then,” Lydia continued. “You two develop this _foolproof_ and meticulously detailed plan that you’ve fallen in love with each other and have really only just met seven months ago.”

                “…Yes?” Stiles said hesitantly, unsure if Lydia had stopped speaking or not.

                 “Well,” Lydia commanded as the bartender at Holland’s set a fresh shot in front of her. “Explain.”

                “About what?” Stiles looked down at his order of cheese fries with a Dr. Pepper, drinking at bars forever spoiled for him. He took a deep swig of soda before asking, “Which part?”

                “How about the part where you convinced everyone that Scott was the twins’ pather.” Lydia said. “Start with that.”

                “I don’t know Lydia I was…embarrassed and more than a little ashamed.” Stiles said as he shoved a fry in his mouth. “I couldn’t believe that not three hours after I’d put my husband in the ground, I was finding about his affair from his _mistress_ of all people. It was literally like someone had punched me in the face. And then Lydia, to hear about his daughter and that she needed his bones? I…reacted, I know that now. I just wanted them to go away and for anyone not to know about anything, I signed the papers allowing them to dig but I said I didn’t want to see any one of them again.”

                “And so telling us that Scott was the pather, that it was he who pathered your miracle twins, what was that?” Lydia asked.

                “More of me reacting.” Stiles answered softly. “I didn’t want anyone to know about anything that included my having sex with a relative of my husband’s mistress and then going on to have his children. Saying Scott was the pather was the easiest and simplest way for everyone to continue believing that everything was fine and dandy when it wasn’t.”

                Lydia sighed hard and downed her shot before leaning over and wrapping Stiles in a one-armed hug. “Oh sweetie it’s alright, I mean it’s not the _best_ news, but it’ll be alright.”

                “Are you sure Lydia, because it really doesn’t feel like it?” Stiles sniffed.

                “Hey no tears, that’s for ugly people and this is Chanel.” Lydia said. “And yes I do. This can all be fixed Stiles, trust me.”

                “If you say so.” Stiles said.

                “I know so.”

 

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                Stiles had kept up that line of positive thinking, that everything can be resolved and he could finally live free from the stress of keeping his secret. He’d even starting sleeping better, his mind somewhat at ease from his talks with Lydia, who finally knew the whole truth. So imagine his surprise when he walked into Melissa’s kitchen with Dylan and Bryan and saw Melissa deep in conversation with Kate Argent.

                “Stiles,” Melissa said as she looked up. She gestured across the kitchen table to Kate who smiled like a pageant queen at Stiles. “This is Kate Argent, she works for The Aegis Grant, it’s the charity that Scott’s job had.”

                “Hello Mr. McCall,” Kate said pleasantly as she tipped her steaming cup of coffee at Melissa.“I was just telling your mother that Scott McCall was a valuable employee of Halestorm Comics, and we were devastated when the accident occurred. The Aegis Grant truly sends their condolences and we wish to offer your twins a scholarship for college.”

                “Stiles it’s full ride, they won’t have to worry about tuition until graduate school.” Melissa beamed. “Isn’t that great?”

                “Oh it’s something,” Stiles smiled brittley at Kate before focusing on the twins.

                “Boys why don’t you two go in the playroom while the grownups talk?” The twins ran through the kitchen while Stiles moved closer towards Melissa and Kate, his fists clasped tightly behind him.

                “I don’t know if Mama told you this in all the excitement but a scholarship isn’t necessary,” Stiles said with all of his available acting skills. “From the settlements and the insurance; we have enough money to send my boys to college about a million times over.”

                “I know, this would be…a cleaner less bloody type of money.” Kate smiled.

                “Isn’t it still only money that’s just coming to us because Scott’s dead?” Stiles said with a false grin of his own. “How is this so different?”

                “Your twins were already eligible for the Grant.” Kate said soothingly. “Granted your recent tragedy has pushed you to the…front of the line…but you were entered into consideration when their pather started working at Halestorm.”

                “Stiles when she first told me I couldn’t believe it, that Scott’s old company were being so generous.” Melissa beamed. “I knew that you already had the money but this is-well I couldn’t turn her away.”

                “We’re even having a memorial service, to honor Scott’s kids as well as the others who were selected for the Grant.” Kate said cheerfully.

                “Oh!” Stiles exclaimed in surprise, sure he was listening to a trap by this Alex Forrest wannabe. “That’s surely something, when is it?”

                “Next Thursday,” Kate responded. “I know its short notice but I’d really appreciate it if you could make it.”

                “We’ll be there.” Melissa promised as she glanced back at Stiles with a grin.

 

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                Since Stiles knew he was walking into a trap of some sort he recruited his toughest weapons that could help him with Kate Argent, Lydia and Erica. Once he and Lydia got an astonished Erica up to speed the three of them started to come up with their plan of attack for the night. They decided that Erica and Stiles would attend together with Lydia going as Melissa’s plus one. If and when something strange started to happen Lydia was supposed to ‘accidently’ spill her drink on Melissa and hustle her out of the auditorium.

                Armed with that plan the quartet set of for the Levine Center where the ceremony were held, all four of them dressed to the nines as the limo drove them to their destination. The twins were pressed against the glass as they went through town, excited to be riding in a car that had pre-packed stacks and sodas. Derek was on call at the hospital, his work as a cardiothoracic surgeon preventing him for taking the night off. Having him not be at the ceremony filled Stiles with a greater sense of purpose, a better feeling that he could get through tonight.

                The ceremony started smoothly, the champagne was delicious and so was the grilled snapper. Kate wasn’t really around them either; she was safely in the front of the hall while Stiles and his group were safely in the center. Stiles had foolishly just started to think he was going to escape tonight unscathed when he heard a tap on a microphone.

                “Excuse me everyone,” Kate said as she looked out over the assembled crowd, looking horribly like a model with her vibrant emerald gown. “But it’s time for what we’re all been waiting for, the presentations of this year’s Aegis Grant recipients! Now I know that this year’s families are bright and wonderful contributions to Beacon Hills as well as Halestorm so with further ado,”

                Kate went down the list naming the families who won the grant, children of servicemen and of artists who worked for the comic book company. She read Dylan and Bryan's name without a second glance, was already saying Joseph Morgan’s name as Stiles left his seat for the front of the hall where the other grant receivers were assembling. Stiles was less than two feet away when Kate Argent dropped a bomb he truly wasn’t expecting.

                “And finally tonight is a family that is near and dear to my heart, as well as the heart of the entire Argent family, my niece Allison Argent.” Kate said. “We’ve had our differences, differences that led to years of us having no contact with each other and for her to have a beautiful little girl. I have the pleasure of awarding this grant to Allison not because she’s my niece as that would be immoral, but because the father of the little girl Allison had was the same man who tragically died in the plane crash that happened almost ten years ago, Scott McCall. The widowed Mr. McCall assured me that it was alright to reveal this because it's old news and later that fateful year, he generously allowed for little Posey to receive her father’s bone marrow, isn’t that right Mr. McCall?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part Sept.

                  Stiles was a statue as he gazed horrorstruck up at Kate. He couldn’t believe that Kate Argent would reveal that, a truth he’d spent the better part of five years trying to sweep under the rug. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, luckily he didn’t have to.

                “That’s correct, Stiles helped save my little girl’s life.” Heads turned as Allison Argent entered the hall with Derek, the both of them dressed impeccably in a crisp tuxedo and canary yellow gown.  Allison walked towards Kate and Stiles, her eyes narrowed and tense. “And you know that everyone involved wanted privacy in the matter, I don’t know what possessed you to reveal that information here.”

                “I know why Allison,” Derek smiled grimly as he followed Allison. “She’s a horrible person who delights in hurting people.”

                “Derek-”

                “Dr. Hale.”

                “…Dr. Hale and-Ms. Argent,” Kate adjusted, her nostril flaring delicately. “I assure you both that Mr. McCall approved my…revealing…of the secret-”

                “No I didn’t,” Stiles snapped, Kate’s lies freeing his tongue. “I didn’t tell you a thing-”

                “-Oh that’s right!” Kate said with faux-surprise as she fixed her gaze on Stiles. “It’s wasn’t you precisely who told me was it, your estate lawyer told me you authorized to tell.”

                “W-what the hell kind of a life is that?” Stiles said incredulously. “Why on earth would Mr. Goldstein tell you something like that, something he didn’t even know?”

                “Because I told him.” Heads turned as Melissa stood up from her table. She placed a hand of her Versace clad hip as she looked back at Stiles.

                “Mama!” Stiles felt like his heart was about to explode out of his chest. “What?!”

               

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                It was dead silent in an abandoned conference room as Stiles, Melissa, Erica, Lydia, Allison, and Derek sat in plush swivel chairs, each looking at nothing in particular with quick glances. They’d been that way for the last twenty minutes, everyone tense and avoiding each other's gazes as they tried to think of something to say. Eventually Melissa got tired of the silence and cleared her throat loudly.

                “I know this was a shock for everyone involved but I felt like I had no choice, too much time was passing.” Melissa said as she stopped stirring her terrible coffee with one of those little wooden stirrers. “I felt like if I didn’t do anything, the truth would never come out, and I’d never get to meet Posey.”

                “So you knew?” Stiles looked up from his pile of shredded napkins, shock making his words stilted.

                “I’m not a simple old lady or stupid Stiles,” Melissa said. “I started to suspect something was going on when the twins were born, that little girl looked just like my sister Melina did when she was that age. And you’re not as sneaky as you guys liked to think; Mrs. Jennings is a good friend of my families. Her husband, the caretaker of cemetery, told her when the diggers just arrived to dig out of the blue. When I saw the little girl I got even more curious so I asked a lawyer to find out why my son was dug up. ”

                “That was me,” Lydia said quietly. “I subpoenaed the court orders for exhumation and saw that they were on a medical basis, it was easy to see what for.”

                “You knew too Lydia?” Stiles felt the blood drain from his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

                “It wasn’t my secret to tell, plus I wouldn’t exactly be screaming from the rooftops that my cheating husband had a child I didn’t know about either.” Lydia reasoned. “I knew it was difficult for you to process and that you’d talk about it in your own time, which you did.” Silence filled the room again as everyone processed Lydia’s words.

                “Scott isn’t the pather of Dylan and Bryan.” Derek said bluntly, his words cutting through the dead air. “I am.”

                “I know sweetheart, again I’m not stupid.” Melissa shrugged as she took another sip of coffee. “I figured that little mystery out when I met you and realized where the twin’s got their smiles and dimples from. Plus I saw that the twins had green eyes. McCall eyes are brown or blue, not green.”

                “Why?”  Stiles almost fell out of his seat; the shock of what Derek and Melissa let out of the bag was that great. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, other than, “Why!?”

                “It’s like Lydia said, I knew that you needed a little more time to process, and I knew eventually you’d tell me.” Melissa said. “When I saw that day could be even more years from now I realized that I needed to speed up the timetable a little. I didn’t want that little girl to grow up without knowing about her father’s side of the family.”

                 “So all of this was what, just an excuse for the truth to explode in my face?” Stiles asked, feeling more than a little unnerved.

                “No, I don’t know what possessed that woman to reveal all that.” Melissa stressed. “The plan was that I just wanted to get you both in the same room and reveal to you both that I knew about Scott’s infidelity and that I wanted to meet my granddaughter. I only told Mr. Goldstein anything because he was just supposed to tell the committee that Scott had another child out there, a child who could use the money a little more than Bryan and Dylan, based on what I gathered from the credit check on Allison.”

                “Really Melissa?” Lydia snorted. “When you first met that bitch you didn’t for a second think that Kate Argent could’ve been related to Allison Argent?”

                “This is Beacon Hills, Argent’s are a dime-a-dozen here; they’re like Smiths or Joneses.” Melissa defended herself. “And if she really loved her relatives like she said earlier, she would’ve just invited them to the event and handed them a check, like I thought she would. I truly had no idea she’d do what she did, to just drop a bomb like that.”

                “So what happens now?” Allison asked a tough of uncertainty, her sharp gaze peaking from underneath her thick brunette bangs. “Where do we go from here?”

                “Tomorrow is Sunday Allison; I hope to see you at my home eating brunch with Stiles, myself and the twins.” Melissa said with a small smile. “We have so much to catch up on.”

 

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                “Here’s the red glitter back Posey.” Stiles said after he finished sprinkling the brilliant flecks on his own wooden box. He extended his arm across the kitchen to the little girl quietly decorating her own little wooden box with the paints Stiles bought from Michaels.

                Posey silently took the plastic container back, her long chocolate locks obscuring her face from public viewing. For the past three Sunday’s Stiles had been trying to get Posey to talk to him, a feat he was trying hard at despite himself. The rambunctious little girl that Stiles remembered bursting into his hospital room was replaced with this shy timid creature who’d only reply in small head nods. Stiles couldn’t stop the wrench in his heart whenever he saw her, Posey forcibly reminded him of Scott now than she ever did before.

                The Scott Stiles remembered as a child was painfully shy; he’d spend hours if not day’s nose deep in books and other solitary activities before he would say two words to you. It took Stiles’ nonstop chattering and boundless enthusiasm about Captain Planet for Scott to say more than ‘Can you pass the purple crayon?’  To him Posey had that same quality, a shyness that hid a vibrant personality just waiting to be revealed.

                “That’s a really…patriotic…jewelry box you’re making there,” Stiles tried again to engage his…step-daughter? Usually Derek and Melissa was there to act as a buffer between them, Derek’s familiarity or Mama’s sweetness was just the thing to make Posey push the hair out of her eyes. Again Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake getting Derek and Melissa to leave him alone with her while they go watch The Smurfs 3 with the twins at the Arclight. He also didn’t know what Allison Argent would say if she found out Stiles was watching her daughter alone without supervision. “What made you decide to decorate it red and blue Posey?”

                “I like Spider-Man.” Came Posey’s soft reply, like if Stiles were asking if she preferred to eat snails or lizard skins later on tonight. She looked up at Stiles for a second before adding, “He’s my favorite superhero.”

                “Really, you read comic books?” Stiles ignored a pang that rose with that fact. “What do you like about Spider-Man so much?”

                Stiles spent fifteen minutes listening to a little girl recite all the reasons Peter Parker was so great. It was a little torturous because the more she talked earnestly about Parker’s guilt over his grandfather’s and Gwen Stacy’s deaths; the more she resembled Scott with her intensity. She had all of his mannerisms, Scott’s half-smile and the way his eyebrows would rise when he’d get excited about something. Stiles honestly thought it would be horrible being around her, that he’d want to break something or scream himself hoarse. If anything he felt a…connection towards her, unwanted as that may be. She was the truly last living link to Scott and Stiles found it hard to hate her for that.

 

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                “So how was it with Posey?” Derek asked as he slid Stiles a salted cup filled to the brim with lemonade margarita. “Did you guys get along or did you want to rip your hair out at the end of it?”

                “It was fine,” Stiles said as he took a small swig of margarita. “Posey is really sweet.”

                “She really is,” Derek said as he poured his own glass from the blender. “I don’t know why you didn’t want to meet her before; she’s the true innocent in all of this mess.”

                “She’s innocent but how she came to be isn’t.” Stiles stifled a shiver as cold tequila its way throughout his body. He sat his glass back down on his kitchen island before continuing. “I’m not holding that against Posey or being hateful towards her, I didn’t want to be constantly reminded of that fact, you know?”

                “Well regardless, it’s nice that you and Melissa are taking the time out to get to know her, I know Allison really appreciates that.” Derek crossed the island to sit beside Stiles on the tall swivel chairs.

                “Why are you so close with your ex-wife’s family?” Stiles asked before he could stop himself. He cringed mentally before adding, “I just thought given how much you hated her you’d stay miles away from them.”

                “I do, I hate the Argents like…like…I _really_ can’t fucking stand the Argents.” Derek said after he took his own large gulp of margarita. “But Allison is different. She was just entering middle school when all the shit with Kate went down, plus before all that our families were extremely close. We shared a business together and we used to view each other as members of each other’s family. I think I never stopped seeing Allison as the little sister I never had, and I can’t stop myself from helping her I guess. Plus like I said, Posey is amazing.”

                “How is your sister by the way? You know, your real one?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of lemony goodness.

                “Fine now for the time being, the hospital in Sherman Oaks is more equipped to handle her needs.” Derek answered. “Plus she’s chief attending at Hoechlin Memorial and can relax her legs a little now.”

                “You never told me how you and your sister both are doctors,” Stiles said with a slight smile. “There must be a story there.”

                “If it is a story it’s not that interesting.” Derek returned Stiles’ smile with a bigger one of his own. “My mother was a doctor and I think to be closer to her, Laura and I decided to follow her career in medicine after she died. It was an easy decision to make because neither one of us can draw more than stick figures -what do you have planned next Friday Stiles?”

                “-Ah, nothing really Derek. What for?” Stiles asked, momentarily thrown by the question.

                “Would you like to go to this hospital benefit with me?” Derek asked, his jade green eyes pouring into Stiles as he sipped his drink. “It’s not as boring as it sounds, there’s booze and good-ish food being served. Plus I have to make a speech which is great mocking material.”

                “I-” A hard knock interrupted what Stiles was going to say. Reluctantly he rose from his chair and made his way to the front door. “Could you hold onto that thought for a second? Maybe think about sitters for Friday night?”

                Stiles couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across his face as he walked towards the door of his house.  He couldn’t believe that Derek was asking him out, after all this time. The attraction he’d felt for Derek never really went away, it just got shoved into the back of his mind, like the rest of Stiles’ unwanted emotions. Derek still was as handsome as the day Stiles first met him, even more now once he realized how loyal and thoughtful he was. He was the best person to have a one night stand with, and Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek wanted more from that. Stiles was still smiling when he opened the front door to two uniformed police officers.  

                “Hello, can I help you officers?” Stiles asked, his smile turning into a small frown.

                “Are you Stiles McCall?” a policeman asked gravely.

                “…Yes?”

                “You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Posey Crystal Argent.” The other officer said as he reached for Stiles' wrists. “You have the right to remain silent, everything...”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part une of The End...

****

                “So tell me again Mr. Call, what exactly transpired today?” asked the detective as he wrote something down in his notebook. “How did you spend your Sunday again?”

                “Jackson it’s me, Stiles.” Stiles ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he tried not to scream in frightened anger. Ever since the officers came to arrest him Stiles had been operating under a state of mild shock. It really didn’t seem real to have the officer’s cold steel handcuffs on his wrists or have the blue and red lights flashing in his face as the car he was in moved about town. “You’ve known me since middle school; you can’t honestly believe that I’d do this.”

                “I believe that I have a job to do and that job involves asking you these questions.” Jackson said as he looked at Stiles with purposefully blank blue eyes. “Mr. McCall, what did you do today?”

                 “Today I spent the day with my mother-in-law, my twins, my boyfriend and my…Posey.” Stiles recited exactly for the eighth time.

                “That’s a full house Mr. McCall, what were you guy up to today?”

                “I…we had lunch, and then the twins wanted to go to the movies,” Stiles answered. “Posey didn’t want to go with them because she’d already seen the movie they were going to see.”

                 “And you so you stayed home with her?” Jackson asked. “You didn’t think to just go with the others and pick a different movie when you got there?”

                “Yes I did,” Stiles said. “That was exactly what I’d plan on doing. But while I was going over the other films on my laptop Posey noticed the craft corner that I have set up in the den.”

                “And then what happened?”

                “Then Posey told me she didn’t want to go to the movies anymore.” Stiles said as he crossed his fingers in front of him to stop his arms from shaking. “She wanted to paint some of the boxes I had stacked up on the bottom of the shelf.”

                “You told her yes?”

                “I did, it was the first thing she said to me that wasn’t prompted by my mother or boyfriend.” Stiles replied. “I honestly didn’t want to go to the movies either; if you see one animated film about friendship with a top 40 soundtrack you’ve seen them all. Plus the new Avengers movie wouldn’t be out until midnight madness, I didn’t want to go to the Arclight twice in a row.”

                “How was it when the two of you were really alone Mr. McCall?” asked Jackson. “Where there any incidents between the two of you that you’d like to share with me?”

                “Incidents like what?” Stiles asked warily, unsure of the line of questions Jackson were now asking.

                “Were there any disciplinary issues with Posey?” Jackson clarified. “Did you come across any times where she wasn’t cooperating, when Posey was being a little…difficult?”

                “No she wasn’t difficult Jackson!” Stiles exclaimed. “We painted boxes, and made clay bead necklaces and made rock candy; Posey was fine the entire time.”

                “Just fine?”

                “Well she wasn’t jumping off the walls or anything like that.” Stiles clarified slowly. “Posey’s a very shy little girl and I could tell she was still getting to know me. I didn’t want to prod or push a connection that wasn’t there so I let her paint her boxes and roll her beads in peace, I figured she’d warm up to me eventually.”

                “And that’s important to you, getting to know her?” Jackson asked.

                “It wasn’t at first but eventually I started to come around.” Stiles allowed.

                “Why wasn’t it?” Jackson looked up from his papers, forehead furrowed. “You said she was a sweet and shy little girl, I’d thought you’d jump at a chance to get to know her, why didn’t you?”

                Stiles looked at Jackson with narrowed eyes. “Lydia talked to you, didn’t she?”

                “Now why would my ex-wife talk to me?” Jackson said as he tapped his pen against his teeth. “Especially when I was already at the party when that woman just aired all of your dirty laundry like that?”

                “You were there?!” Stiles gasped. “Lydia didn’t tell me that.”

                “I don’t feel the need to inform my ex every time I have a work function Mr. McCall.” Jackson shrugged. “The Grant also gives out some money to local civil services; I was the police department’s show pony that night. But let’s take it back to you Mr. McCall; let’s talk about you and Posey.”

                “What about us?” Stiles crossed his arms. “Everything I’ve just told you is the truth.”

                “It maybe is but it’s not the entire truth.” Jackson said. “Like you’ve said we’ve known each other for a while, so I know you have a deep revenge streak.”

                “What does that have to do with anything-what revenge streak?” Stiles demanded.

                “You’re not a good person to piss off, everyone knows that. It’s how you and Lydia remained such good friends.” Jackson said. “Remember the time you replaced Danny’s shampoo with Nair because he drunkenly kissed Scott, or the time you blackmailed the chemistry teach for a better grade when you found out he dealt pot to the burnouts? And how about the time you got him fired when he refused to change Scott’s grade Mr. McCall?”

                “And this all means what exactly, besides the fact that I had a fun time in high school?” Stiles asked.

                “It means whenever someone threatens your relationship with Scott you react a little…diabolically.” Jackson explained. “I haven’t even brought up the time you locked Matt Daehler in the freezer for almost two days.”

                 “None of this means anything-besides, I would never do anything to a kid.” Stiles stressed. “I would never harm a child no matter where they come from; I’m offended that you’d think that I would.”

                “How did you make the rock candy Mr. McCall?” Jackson asked randomly.

                “W-What?”

                “How did you make the candy?” Jackson asked again. “What did you use to make it?”

                “Water, sugar, and food coloring.” Stiles answered, confused. “Why do you want to ask me about that?”

                “Since in the entire two hours you’ve never asked about what’s exactly wrong with Posey, I’m just going to tell you what happened to her Mr. McCall. Posey was poisoned, by antifreeze. I don’t know if you know this but antifreeze is sweet to the taste and can be easily added to other sweet things. So I’ll ask you another question, where exactly did you place the rock candy to cool?”

 

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                “I really can’t believe it Lydia,” Stiles said as he rested his head on crossed arms, the stress making his head pound. “They think I had something to do with what happened with Allison’s daughter.”

                “Don’t worry about it Stiles.” Lydia comforted him with a shoulder rub. ’“Once they finish testing the rock candy it’s all going to be fine, trust me.”

                “I know it is, I didn’t do anything wrong.” Stiles raised his head to sharply look at his best friend. “You believe me don’t you?”

                “Of course I do, I know you didn’t hurt that little girl, you’re my best friend and I know you’re not capable of that.” Lydia reassured him. “Besides if you were going to poison someone, you’d dose the whore.”

                “It’s just, Jackson kept going on about how vindictive I am and how I wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a little girl.” Stiles said with a groan. “I can’t understand how I’m still sitting here in this interview room, waiting on the lab to finish testing my rock candy.”

                “Look on the bright side; at least you’re sitting in an interview room instead of a jail cell.”  Lydia shrugged as she started to play Candy Crush on her iPhone. “Silver linings and all that.”

                “I can always trust you to keep things in perspective Lydia.” Stiles laughed lightly.

                “I try.”

               

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                “How are the boys doing, are they asking questions about why I’m not home?” Stiles asked Derek while he scribbled his name on some papers an officer had thrust at him to get his belongings back from lockup, more than happy to sign anything that would get himself out of there faster.

                “No they’re oblivious and fine Stiles. Melissa is with them, they’re all staying at my house while the police pack up their equipment.” Derek answered as he leaned against the front desk. “Rest assured Dylan and Bryan are eating Jell-O and watching The Penguins of Madagascar on my flatscreen as we speak. I told them you had to help Skipper and the boys with a tuna fish problem, surprisingly they bought it.”

                “Great, now I have to explain how I know cartoon penguins.” Stiles laughed as he initialed on another page.  The lab had analyzed the rock candy, which was poison free as Stiles knew it was. That combined with an impassioned argument by Lydia meant that Stiles was free to go, albeit with a stock reminder to remain in Beacon Falls.

                “Well I have to say, of all the dates I’ve been on; this was by far the most stressful.” Derek said as he grinned at Stiles.

                “Don’t joke it’s too soon.” Stiles groaned as he gave the papers back to the officer. “I’ve just stopped envisioning myself as some hairy dude’s prison wife.”

                “I’m just saying this is one of the more memorable ones.” Derek grinned as an officer handed Stiles his wallet and cell phone back.

                “This isn’t a date; dates have food and polite banter. This was a four hour long interrogation with lukewarm coffee.” Stiles said as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket. “I didn’t get anything from the vending machines, I’m starving.”

                “Do you want anything from them, I saw some Reese’s Peanut-Butter Cups.” Derek said.

                “Could you really? Would you also please get me a Pepsi  too Derek?” Stiles beamed at Derek as he grabbed his jacket from the top of the front desk and pushed his arms through it. “And maybe a bag of Doritos if they have some?”

                “Sure, hang tight. I’ll be right back.” Derek said as he started to walk towards the machines.

                Once he was alone Stiles picked up his phone from the counter and punched in his passcode, about to start texting Melissa about the twins while Derek went to go raid the vending machines. He was hitting send on his message when someone yanked him around and punched him hard in the jaw.

                “You fucking bastard how could you!” Allison shrieked as she punched the back of Stiles’ head. “I knew I should’ve never let that bitch keep my baby with you.”

                “Look-”

                “-Shut the fuck up!” Allison’s rage cut off Stiles’ calm tones. “I knew this would happen, that you would hurt her-”

                “-Now you shut the fuck up!” Stiles cut in as he felt his calm dissipate and his temper start to flare.  He rubbed the back of his head as he glared at Allison, the nightmarish evening he’d just finished surviving loosened his tongue and made him reach for the four letter adjectives. “I didn’t harm that little girl you fucking stupid bitch and I’m getting tired of being treated like I did. Like I told Detective Whittemore I don’t know how Posey-”

                “-You don’t get to say her name!” Allison cried as she flipped her hair out of her face.  She stalked closer to Stiles, who wasn’t giving an inch as he stared her down. They glared silently at each for a few moments before Allison continued heatedly. “After all Posey and I’ve been through of course you’d be the one to destroy everything, to ruin us more than we’ve already been ruined.”

                “The holy fuck are you talking about, you Toucan Sam looking motherfucker?” Stiles stared at Allison incredulously. “I didn’t know your ass until you came out the woodwork with your sick daughter bullshit.”

                “You never were supposed to find out, about either one of us.” Allison snapped through flared nostrils. “If we hadn’t needed Scott’s marrow so badly you would’ve known we ever existed, because Scott told me all about you, you’re nothing more than a vindictive little bitch.”

                 “If I wanted to harm that little girl, all I had to do is not dig up my-because yes he was _my_ -husband and go about my business.” Stiles retorted after a second where he considered cramming a pen through her neck. “I should’ve just let that brat of yours die when I first met you, that you could call vindictive-”

                “-Stiles? Allison?” Both of them turned around sharply to look at Derek, who approached the pair like they he was walking onto rabid wolves, a bright red Doritos bag dangling from his fingertips. “What’s going on?”

                “…Nothing.” Stiles said with a hard false smile. “Toucan Sam here was just venting, which I’m only entertaining because I’m a par-”

                “-I hope you’re only here to get information about your niece-”

                “-He’s not related to you.” Stiles thrilled sweetly as he looked back at a red faced Allison. “And he’s here for me, not you Toucan. As I was saying before Whorison was just venting here, which I’m allowing because I’m a parent now and I can understand the lashing out.”

                “So that’s true Derek, you’re really here for him?” Allison said looking devastated while she gazed at Derek. “You don’t care about Posey, or the fact that this bastard poisoned her?”

                “He didn’t harm Posey Allison,” Derek said as he tossed the chips and soda on the counter. “And of course I care, I’ve always cared.”

“Then help me,” Allison said wild-eyed. She crumbled to the ground, cradling her face in her hands as she started to sob loudly. She cried for a few moments before staring at Derek with a tear-stained devastated face. “Derek someone hurt my baby, and I don’t know who.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part deux of THE END...

                Two days after the trip to the police station Stiles was watching his twins play on the X-Box 360 in their playroom, the idea of crafts momentarily soured to him, when Derek walked into the room clutching a manila folder. Stiles put down the copy of Entertainment Weekly he was leafing through and glanced at Derek before he pressed the intercom button that was built into the table he was leaning on. He was excited to hear what Derek had to say, after he’d spent the past week rushing the labs on Posey at the hospital.

                “Ming, could you come and watch the boys for a few moments?” Stiles asked his nanny. Once he got a confirmation Stiles nodded to the folder. “So if that what I think it is?”

                “Yep, Posey’s stomach contents and toxicology report.” Derek confirmed while he slapped the folder on the table beside Stiles. “Dr. Sheppard just faxed them to me.”

                “So did you read them, what did they say?” Stiles rose from his seat when Ming walked in and sat beside Bryan and Dylan. He followed Derek down the hall and into the den on the second floor. He plopped down on one of his leather couches and waited for Derek to continue.

                “I don’t know yet, I just got the papers off the machine about twenty minutes ago.” Derek said as sat opposite Stiles and tossed the folder in the space between them. “I drove right over so I didn’t have a chance to read them.”

                “Then we’ll enjoy the mystery together.” Stiles picked up the manila folder and quickly undid the flimsy bronze clasp. Stiles rapidly glanced through the papers and just as rapidly, gave them to Derek when he realized that he might as wellhave been looking at Greek. “What does this say Dr. Hale, in simple fifth grade English please?”

                “Uh…Posey ingested Antifreeze about two tablespoons worth, which was more than enough to poison her.” Derek read from the papers. “Luckily Allison realized something wasn’t right with her within one to two hours, which was long enough for the poison to work but not long enough to do permanent damage to her organs.”

                “How is she now?” Stiles asked. “Has she woken up yet?”

                “No, but I talked to Dr. Brewer,” Derek said “He’ll awaken her from her coma once the ethanol and charcoal solutions finished working and her vitals return to normal. It also says that the antifreeze was mixed with cola, either Coke or Pepsi.”

                “I didn’t give Posey any soda.” Stiles perked up, his mind meticulously replaying the last day he’d spent with Allison’s daughter. “When Allison first bought her to my house she told Mama and me that Posey only drinks water or juice, she’s one of those health freaks or something. The entire time she was with us all I gave her was apple juice or some Kool-Aid, which doesn’t count in my book.”

                “So she never drank soda when she was with you guys?” Derek looked up from reading, his green eyes full of curiosity.

                “No she didn’t.” Stiles shook his head. “Derek you know how Mama is, she’s a one woman army against childhood obesity, the twins drink Fanta just on their birthday.”

                “So if she didn’t drink the soda at your house…” Derek trailed off.

                “Where did she get the Pepsi?” finished Stiles.

 

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                Stiles knew that his presence wasn’t going to be soothing or conductive to finding out the truth, he didn’t give a hot shit. When he was arrested Stiles realized like it or not he was involved, which was why he trailed behind Derek as they walked down the corridor of Beacon Hills General to meet up with Allison. As Stiles imagined he was guest starring in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, he wondered who in the world would poison a little girl.

                “Der-What is he doing here?” Allison thundered as her eyes darted towards Stiles as the pair entered the conference room she was sitting in.

                “-I, he-”

                “-Don’t mind me, I’m here in the interest of truth, justice, and the American way.” Stiles said with a sparking smile as he sat down in one of those hard backed plastic hospital chairs, staring across the foldup table at Allison. “And also because this place has surprisingly decent curly fries.”

                “I don’t feel comfortable with him being here Derek.” Allison said with a slight whine.

                “Tough, he has every right to be here given what happened.” Derek responded as he sat down beside Stiles. “Besides, he’s not the reason we’re all here right now, is he?”

                “Where’d you get the soda that you gave to Posey?” Stiles asked.

                 “I don’t give Posey _soda,_ ” Allison pronounced soda like she’d say child rapist. “I want a healthy child and not an obese one.”

                “Well, it’s what poisoned your daughter, according to the toxicology report.” Stiles ripped the Band-Aid off to that truth as he leaned on his elbows at the table.

                “W-What!?” color drained from Allison’s face. “That’s impossi-oh my god!”

                “What Allison?” Derek asked as he looked at Allison with concern. “What’s wrong, what do you remember?”

                “I know where Posey got the soda from.” Allison whispered as she swallowed hard.

                “Where?” Derek asked.

                “It’s mine.” Allison rubbed a trembling hand over her mouth. “When I get my…period…I drink a small cup of Pepsi, it’s the only thing that makes me feel better other than a hot water bottle.”

                “Where do you keep the soda Allison?” Stiles asked despite himself.

                “I…It’s in my bedroom, behind my jeans at the top of my closet.” Allison answered as she locked disbelieving eyes with Stiles. “She’s nine, and barely four feet tall. She doesn’t know I keep soda in the house, let alone know where to find it.”

                “I think we’re missing the main problem, Allison, did you keep antifreeze near the soda in your closet?” Derek asked. “You didn’t accidently leave it open in the closet or the kitchen, somewhere Posey could mistake it for juice and mix them together?”

                “Derek I don’t own a car, I use BHART, why would I have antifreeze?” Allison said with a wobble in her voice.

                 

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                “The lab analyzed the liter of Pepsi, it was definitely tampered with.” Detective Jackson Whittemore informed the assembled Allison, Stiles, and Derek in his office a day later. “The bottle had a small sealed hole at the bottom, plus the actual soda tested positive for antifreeze.”

                “So this proves I didn’t do it, I didn’t poison Posey?” Stiles stressed to be clear.

                “It appears so; you’re officially off the hook Mr. McCall.” Jackson said with a small eye roll. “Moving on, Ms. Argent I have to ask you, do you know anyone who’d wish you or your daughter harm?”

                “Um…no.” Allison shook her head. “I’m a private person, I live in my apartment with my daughter and I don’t ask unnecessary questions. I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt us.”

                “What about work? Are there any disgruntled employees or jealous colleagues?” Jackson asked.

                “Jealous!?” Allison sniggered. “I’m a glorified kindergartner; literally all I do every day is color in comics. I don’t have any enemies because having enemies means someone noticed you enough to hate you, and that’s not me.”

                “Really?” Jackson arched an eyesbrow. “You’re Allison Argent, you own the company.”

                “No I don’t.”

                “Her father was disowned from the company and family fortune when Allison was six.” Derek supplied. “He suffered a psychotic break due to bad PCP and killed three teenagers; he was convinced they were werewolves living among us. Christopher was already on thin ice when he almost drove the company into the ground and married Victoire, this just sealed everything.”

                “I spent the rest of my childhood living with my mother in the garden shed out in the backyard.” Allison added with a whisper. “Nobody ever believed that Allison Argent was dirt poor or that her mother had to nightly steal food from the dumpsters behind the mansion’s kitchen.”

                “Let’s keep the focus to why we’re all here.” said Jackson. “Ms. Argent, if you’re sure you don’t have any enemies, what about friends? Who visited you two the day before Posey was poisoned?”

                “Like I said, I’m a private person.” Allison pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t really know anyone well enough for them to be in my home, to be around my daughter.”

                “So no one visited you during the past week?” Derek asked. “No one at all?”

                “I…just my aunt Kate, she stopped by a few days ago-”

                “-Done!” Stiles jerked, unaccountably excited as he jerked his head to look at the detective. “Jackson that’s the one, the person who harmed that little girl. It was Kate.”

                “What?!” Allison and Derek chorused together.

                “Kate’s a lot of things, evil and a stone cold bitch being the top two on that list.” Derek started. “But she wouldn’t harm Posey.”

                “Unlike her father she loves her family; she wouldn’t try to kill them.” Allison finished. “She’s literally been the only person who gave a damn about me, she gave me the colorist gig when she found out I needed a job. She wouldn’t do this to her niece Stiles.”

                “She’s a bitch sure, but she’s a crazy bitch.” Stiles said with a brisk headshake. “I don’t really know why but she doesn’t seem to care for me-”

                “-Gee, I wonder why?”

                “-No this is something more than I’m Jennifer Aniston and she’d a diehard Brangeloonie.” Stiles continued over Jackson’s sarcastic comment. “She hates me like Lydia hates poly-blends; I genuinely think she’d use her niece to frame me for some reason.”

                “That’s ridiculous; of course she wouldn’t use my daughter to harm you.” Allison snorted.

                “Well, do you have a better idea?” Stiles shot back. “I didn’t poison your daughter and you just said no one visited you two other than her. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”

 

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                It turned out getting a hold of Kate Argent proved to be surprisingly difficult for Stiles and company. When Jackson arrived to the California division of Halestorm Comics to speak with Kate, he was informed by her assistant that she’d temporarily flown to Ontario to speak with an upcoming graphic novel writer. After a long drawn out argument with her assistant Jill, he also found out he needed a warrant if he wanted to see her schedule, which he didn’t have.

                “I can’t believe it’s been almost a week and we’re still not closer to finding Kate.” Stiles said as he unwrapped his Whooper, the conversation with Detective Whittemore about three days old.

                “I’ve spoken to some of my coworkers who directly work under Kate; they’ve all said that this meeting wasn’t registered in any of their own schedules.” Allison told the group as she sat down around Stiles’ dinner table and opened her garden salad.

                “They don’t have any idea where she could be, a surgeon’s office or a gigolo’s apartment?” Lydia asked as she delicately sipped her Dr. Pepper through a straw. “It’s so hard to find a woman who looks like Gisele Bündchen if Gisele was trapped in a forest fire?”

                “I know, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack.” Stiles said, his voice slightly muffled by his hamburger.

                “If we don’t find Kate, what then?” Melissa asked as she nibbled on a fry. “What’s our next move?”

                “Jackson called me yesterday; the only prints on the Pepsi bottle were Allison’s.” Derek said after he swallowed his bite of chicken sandwich. “When Posey wakes up, she’ll be able to tell us who precisely gave her the soda.”

                “How is she doing?” Melissa asked; her tone covered in concern. “Has she woken up yet?”

                “The doctors are expecting her to wake up either today or tomorrow, once the final drugs leave her system.” Allison said quietly. “We should be able to ask her a few questions in a little while.”

                “Good, may-”

                The theme song to C.S.I interrupted Melissa. Everyone briefly looked around in confusion before Allison sheepishly reached into her pocket and took out her cell.

                “Excuse me-this is the hospital, they must have news about Posey.” Allison said before she pressed the little green phone button. ”Hello?”

                Stiles watched interested as Allison talked to the hospital, pausing with his Whooper next to his mouth as Allison turned bone white and hung up the phone.

                “Posey is awake, we can visit her now.”

 

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                “Posey I know it’s been a rough week for you,” Jackson said as Allison, Stiles, Derek, and Melissa surrounded Posey’s hospital bed. “But I really need you to remember something, because it’s very important that you do. Posey do you remember who gave you the soda that made you feel sick?”

                Posey blinked owlishly, the purple and green hospital gown she was wearing drowned her thin frame. She licked extremely chapped lips before whispering, so low everyone had to lean forward to catch it.

                “It was…D-Daddy.” She rasped, looking at everyone with wide frightened eyes. “Daddy gave me the soda.”


	10. Chapter 10

Horrible, tragic news gang. A few weeks ago my computer crashed and I had to get the hard drive replaced, thus effectively deleting 'As The Bomb Drops.' I don't have any other backups because like an idiot I didn't get a usb drive when I got the chance. I'd written over 3,000 words in the final part and my muse has left for this story as far as writing it again.

So I'll give you the cliffnotes. Scott was alive, and he was tired of being silent. He'd always been the good husband, good son and he wanted to be bold with his life. The job at Halestorm wasn't his dream job either, sure it gave him enough money to buy a house but he didn't grow up to basically be babysitting tempremental artists and overbearing writers all day. The only reason he accepted it was because Stiles said it was a good idea and they needed the money due to the fact he had student loans. And because it was the only way to get close to true artistic talent, as he had none.

While he worked in a job he hated, with people he was extremely jealous of, a beautiful woman offered him an escape hatch. Sure he couldn't draw or write a decent screenplay, but he could lie, and lie well. She needed him to get close to this mousy woman who'd just started working there, a sort of double agent scenario. When he pressed why Kate said it was because Allison had a trust fund she didn't know about, and that she wanted it for herself. She needed the serial number on Allison's French birth certificate to authorize it and she wanted Scott to date her and search the apartment for it. 

Scott felt like 007 in the beginning, wining and dining this odd creature who didn't know she was a billionaire. It gave him a tremendous boner, to be cheating but for espionage reasons. Stiles was...Stiles. He'd loved him since kindergarten, but he was bored with it all. It was dry, listening to the same librarian work stories from Stiles and pretending to be interested in them. Working Allison gave him a thrill, a thrill he thought was harmless because it wasn't liked he loved her or that this was in any way real.

Until she became pregnant. Scott knew he'd messed up then, focusing on the surprisingly great sex and instead of the business at hand. She kept baby, and luckily she thought he lived in New York City so he sent her there. It was doable, being bicoastal. Moving her stuff to NYC proved to be a good thing because Scott found her birth certificate in the debris.

He wasn't a fool either. He'd traced the accounts and used the number to get access to the money. Then he staged a plan to enjoy the money. He'd had access to company health records and luckily there was a man at Halestorm his exact race and blood type. He pulled a Don Draper, switching their ID's and passes when they left for Drago-Con, and hiding in the bathroom when the small engine fire he paid Abraham to start before takeoff crashed the plane.

Due to their similarites and his acting skills Scott McCall was listed among the dead and he left with the other 67 survivors. He was living in Paris about to get lost in the city and a it's food when he was attacked by street youths. At the hospital the doctors told him he had terminal cancer and that he had 7 months to live.

Then he wanted to be with the ones he loved. He flew back to Beacon Hills after almost five years and melded in the shadows. He saw Stiles had moved on, with a doctor no less and he was glad for him. He didn't want him to be one of those shut-ins who never got over their spouses death. He just wanted to spend time with his daughter before he went to meet his maker.

So he did what any rational person would, he tried to poison the mother, to take Posey back to Paris with him. He wasn't expecting for Posey to see him and thought he'd played it off to her as a dream. He was devastated that she didn't listen and drank the poisoned soda. He was about to leave and go back to his cabin to think of a new plan when a car swerved into the pedestrian lane and killed them both instantly. It was a drunk and distracted Kate driving and people were sad to find a still on-call iPhone with a frantic Peter on the other end.

Oh, and Sterek lived and loved happily ever after.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENT It'll tell me if this is worth continuing.


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